


Sunset and Silk

by CornishPatsy



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CornishPatsy/pseuds/CornishPatsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara and the twelfth Doctor stay the night with the Menoptra. From a prompt for 'bed-sharing' by antennapedia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset and Silk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antennapedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antennapedia/gifts).



Clara slumped onto a fallen log by the massive bonfire in the much more massive cave-mouth, sighed, and pulled her shoes off. With hindsight, wedge heels weren’t the best footwear for following Jurassic-sized insects who’d never felt the need to build roads. On the positive side, their mission had been a total, satisfactory, success. The Menoptra had asked the Doctor to intercede with the, ummm, worm people (she couldn’t pronounce their real name if she tried, much less spell it), for mineral rights on one side of a mountain, and the Doctor had actually brokered the deal without anyone temporarily dying or even having to run down a corridor.

The Doctor was bouncing around, full of fizz after a day of hiking, caving and talking to giant worms and moths. He and Clara had been provided with the only food the Menoptra had that they could eat, a sugary fruit that had given them both a rush for a while. Clara’s was wearing off now, but the Doctor was showing no signs of slowing. He was in in full flow, drawing diagrams of mining machines for an awestruck audience. Clara relaxed and watched the fire.

It was dark when she was woken up. One of the Menoptra had got worried, sleeping on the ground being a sign of sickness among her kind, and called the Doctor.

“Don’t worry”, he said, beaming.

“Should I?”

“You haven’t missed the sunset.”

“So why’s it dark?”

He pointed upwards dramatically. “It’s dark down here. Not at ceiling level.”

Clara just looked at him. He slowly brought his hand down and continued.

 “The Menoptra are lending us two of their best bedchambers for the night. We’ll go up and watch the sun set, and have one of the finest sleeping experiences in the universe. I mean you will. I’ll read.”

“I can’t walk all that way.”

“Well, no, there’s no path through the air, you’d fall.”

Clara thought about it.

“How high is roof level?”

“Ceiling, not roof. The cocoons hang below it.”

Clara looked up. The top of the cave was still in sunlight, and now she could see fuzzy dots, shadowed on one side.  Then she looked at a watching Menoptra and recalibrated. Her brain pirouetted as the dots became Menoptra-sized and very, very high up. Before she could object the Menoptra said, “We’ll carry you up. On a sling. Four of us can lift you.”

A bed, and no need to walk to it. That suited Clara.

“Where’s the launch pad?”

 

The Menoptra hovered while Clara and the Doctor tied themselves into the silk slings, and then lifted together. Clara felt air fan her face from strong wingbeats as she went vertically up, sitting in the ribbon-like sling in the same fashion as a trapeze artist. The Menoptra took the strain easily, their wings making a low background whooshing noise. Once Clara relaxed she could enjoy the rapidly-widening view. Beyond the cave mouth, the land dropped away to a huge sandy plain, an iron-bearing dark red. Rising further, the sunlight broke across them, and when she’d finished blinking, a huge gold sun was hanging low over the plain.

They came to a cocoon, which swayed slightly in the downdrafts from the Menoptra’s wings. It was cream-coloured and puffy, and made from more silk. “My grandmother’s own work,” said Clara’s lead Menoptra proudly. “Built to last.”

The cocoon had a slit for a door, with ribbons hanging from it. Clara tied herself to them, gingerly tipped out of the sling and flopped into the cocoon. She dropped down into wavy layers of silk, the door slit high above her.  The whole cocoon swung gently, while she lay on her back and waved as the Menoptra moved off. They dropped the Doctor into the cocoon next door.

Sunlight filtered softly through the walls of the cocoon. The air inside was warm but fresh. Clara was about to nod off when,

“Clara!”

He’d get worse if she ignored him. She scrambled onto her knees and looked out of the door slit. Only his face appeared.

“You look like a caterpillar coming out of an apple.”

“Is that good? Doesn’t matter. Sunset. Have you got a view?”

She disappeared into the body of the cocoon, crawled with difficulty towards the light, while the material swayed under her, and found another door slit.

“Yes.”

“Good. Your bed’s in my way. Coming across!”

She got back to the first door in time to see the Doctor sitting in his doorway and using his legs to make it swing. It was already humming back and forth through the air.

“Don’t do that, it’s not safe!”

“Menoptra silk – better tensile strength than steel – huge cables of it up to the ceiling. These things are overengineered. They’ll take my weight and yours.” As an afterthought, “Don’t worry.”

“No, I mean if you miss it’s a long …”

WHUMP. He landed in a billow of silk.

“… never mind.”

By the time they’d sorted themselves out, and Clara had insisted on him removing his boots and hanging them from the door, and had a quiet giggle about his neon-pink socks, Clara’s cocoon had almost stopped swinging, and the sun was half-hidden. They crawled to the viewing door and knelt together, holding it open.

“Just watch. It doesn’t last long.”

The straw-gold sun continued to set on the distant horizon. As it finally disappeared an intense violet flash filled the sky, slowly faded to turquoise, then emerald, then back through gold, burnt amber and crimson. Then it was dark.

“The atmosphere here is perfect. On most planets you’re lucky to get a green flash. If your sun’s the right colour to start with. The Menoptra see it every evening. You need hot air over cold, no clouds. That desert goes straight to the coast. Perfect. “

“Lovely,” Clara yawned.

The Doctor recalled what to do in case of yawning.

“I’ll get back to my cocoon and let you sleep.”

“DON’T. I’ll get seasick if you swing us around. Stay. You’ve got a better view of the stars here.”

The Doctor grinned and turned back to the door. Clara lay with her head and feet up, hammock-style. She pulled layers of cream silk over herself and watched his head, outlined by constellations. The cocoon rocked gently in the breeze, and she slept.

 

 

 


End file.
